


Children of a Lesser God

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Season 6 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Dean it is almost too much</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children of a Lesser God

He calmly pulls the angel blade from his back and smiles at you, superior and all consuming. Behind him is Sam – Sammy – up and alive and not a drooling idiot. You want to hug him, to stand by him but your feet are frozen to the floor and you stand, motionless, watching as the new ‘God’ makes his victory speech.

***

You drive slow and steady; taking any bumps in the road as if they are mountains. Bobby sits in the back, eyes closed, cap pulled down over his face. Sam leans his head against the window and stares into the night. You drive like an old lady not wanting to jolt the Impala, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance of Sammy’s mind. None of you speak because there is nothing to say and the windscreen wipers that swish noisily are the only things that make any sound.

You stagger into Bobby’s and lean against the counter; there is whiskey or coffee and you decide on the latter, putting the pot on to boil and finding some milk that isn’t sour or curdled. Bobby looks vaguely surprised at your choice but doesn’t say a word. Sam slumps onto the sofa and puts his head in his trembling hands and you bite your lip so fucking hard that salty blood comes to the surface and almost chokes you.

’We were family once’

Your own words are on a playback loop in your head and you shake it once or twice to try and stop them. You take your coffee bitter and black but you put plenty of milk and sugar in Sammy’s, handing it to him and watching him whilst he takes it, sipping at it gingerly, slanting hazel eyes fixed on your face. You can’t risk whiskey bringing anymore damage to your brother’s fragile mind and you just smile at him, wide and false.

After a while Bobby feigns exhaustion and staggers up to his own room. You look at Sam trying to gauge what your brother is thinking but it is impossible. Cas brought the wall down but somehow Sammy managed to overcome whatever demons were torturing him and find his way to you. You want to hug him hard but you are so afraid and so, instead, you turn heel and walk slowly up the stairs into the room that Bobby has given you, the room you always share.

Sam follows. You hear his sluggish footfalls, his breathing but you refuse to turn feeling like Orpheus afraid to know what you might see, or what you might lose if you turn.

You take off your shirt and pants and you lay down on the bed; Sam stands in the doorway and watches you, eyes hooded. He moves towards you shedding his own clothing and you shake your head.

“Dean,” it is the first word you have heard Sammy say since you saw his wild eyed stare as he plunged the knife into Cas. “The wall is gone, whatever damage is done is done and – and nothing that happens to me can make this worse.” His eyes soften. “I want you Dean. I need you.”

You bite your lip again; so many betrayals and this is just one more. ‘We were family once’, but it means nothing now, this man here - tall, thin, and pale but determined is your family and you know without question that he is the one single soul you can trust.

The next thing you know Sammy’s thighs are gripping your waist, Sammy’s feet are digging into your spine. He is tight and hot around you, his teeth buried deep in your throat, his hands slipping up and down your sweat stained back. He cries out as he wets your chest and stomach, his eyes closing as he reaches his climax.

“I remember everything,” he whispers and you tense. “But it doesn’t matter Dean, the memories are bad but I’m okay. I’m okay and I want to make new memories, good memories, with you.”

You lay in each others arms knowing that this is far from over. You can hear Sam breathing and the salt in your throat is so bitter it almost chokes you. Sam seems to know something and he touches your hair with gentle fingers.

“Dean,” he whispers. “Please, one thing – one thing I need to ask you and you need to promise me.”

You are rigid with tension and you want to vomit; you are so sickened with deals and demons, so ticked off with angels and reapers and every other single supernatural bastard that has fucked with your family.

“Dean,” Sam sounds insistent. “I need you to promise me, please -please don’t lock me in that fucking panic room again. I – please, man, if you never promise me anything else, promise me that.”

You feel stunned; you stare at Sammy and realize that he is laughing, a quiet, snuffling laugh that lightens your heart and makes you feel something other than fear.

“I think I can promise you that, Sammy,” you say and he holds you impossibly closer.

And there in that moment you actually feel as if everything might be okay.

End


End file.
